


Scammin' For Every Book (and Guy) He Can Get His Hands on

by sdlonyernayr



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Books, Flowers, High School, I'll add more tags as time goes on, M/M, Other, Slow Build, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, apart from abigail smith, i'm going to stop rambling in the tags now, james madison has lots of health issues, james madison is also a volunteer library assistant, now that i think about it this is kinda like cruel intentions, they basically all know each other because their parents are all in the small business industry, thomas jefferson's mother owns a flower shop near said library
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9503861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdlonyernayr/pseuds/sdlonyernayr
Summary: Ever since Thomas' mother passed away, things haven't been the same. He's turned into some kind of daredevil, owning a brain and having no use for it. His friends think it's cool how courageous he is, but when they push him the farthest they ever have, he's got difficult decisions to make.





	1. Could Never Back Down

"I dare you to make the beeper go off on purpose," James Monroe taunted as if he was the wittiest guy in the group.

"You mean the alarm?" Abigail Smith asked, rolling her eyes in complete disappointment.

"Whatever."

It had been Abigail's idea to meet up at the library that Friday because she needed the quiet to read her book. Every day they would alternate, and it wasn't usually all of them that were able to attend. Their third year of high school had proven to be loaded with work left and right. Even then, Abigail was situated in her cushioned chair, legs slung over the arm and Shakespeare's _Macbeth_  cradled between her fingers. She had to read it for her English class. Low and behold, Thomas Jefferson was in the same class as her, and his book was nowhere to be seen. But the bags under his eyes were relevant as he sat on the chair across from her in the circle, leaning on his elbowed thighs—proof he stayed up every night cramming homework for the next day.

Thomas was smirking, "Is that all y'got, Monroe?" He was already making his way to stand up.

Monroe snorted, "And y'gotta get out of there before you get caught. Don't let them know you did it or else you don't complete the dare."

Truth or dare was their go-to game, mainly because Jefferson was merciless. He never denied a good truth or dare, and he would almost always end up choosing the latter. The only time he wouldn't was on Mondays, when he probably hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. If his friends noticed, they never said anything.

"Careful, idiot," John Adams mumbled from his seat amongst the circle of comfy chairs. Any shuffling or even whisper could be heard over the silence of the library. "Washington's on duty today and he can get really pissy if you mess with his alarms."

"Ah, qui se soucie de cette graisse, vieux mec?" Thomas questioned with a wave of his hand, as if he was trying to ward off John's hostility.

Adams rolled his eyes, "Suit yourself."

Thomas mouthed the words in a mocking manner, causing James to laugh quietly, before turning on his heel and exiting the circle. He grabbed a random book off the shelf that barricaded them from the front desk as quietly as he could. Then he emerged from behind the shelf, exit alarms only a few feet away. If there had been any other place for their group to hang out in this organized chaos, he would have chosen some place farther away from the front, but it was no secret the front was the only place with comfy chairs.

To further fool any authority watching, Jefferson hummed a quiet tune to himself and crossed the front desk to use the self-checkout. That way it would look like a mistake.

After opening the checkout program, he left it on and scurried off to the exit, stepping through with the book in his hands. The beeping went off and he stepped back, completely ready to flee the scene. But before he could even move his feet any further, he heard a voice, rasped and barely loud enough to be heard over the alarms, speak to him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Thomas turned as calmly as he could to stare at none other than James Madison, the volunteer library assistant. The first time Thomas had heard so, he had to check if he'd heard right. Who volunteered to be a library assistant? It was probably to gain hours for graduation, but still. James didn't go to William & Mary High School. Instead, he attended Princeton High School for reasons still unknown. Thomas only knew of him because the library was next to his mother's flower shop. Parents on the street knew all the gossip, and he had a particularly close relationship with his mother, especially after what had happened.

Washington had probably stepped out for a moment because he was nowhere to be seen.

"Did you check out that book? Surely you're not that interested in _To Kill A Mockingbird_  to steal it," Madison continued on.

Thomas realized he had gotten so lost in his thoughts he hadn't answered.

His group of friends had ditched their spot and were peeking out from behind their trench of a bookshelf, chuckling quietly at how flustered Jefferson seemed.

It really did seem like James Madison was trying to outwit Thomas Jefferson. That was, before the assistant spoke again: "I saw you at the self-checkout before. Did it not work for you? I can teach you how to use it, if y'want. Follow me," And Thomas _followed_.

His friends nearly fell over in complete awe. What the actual fuck?

By the time James had gotten Thomas' book checked out for him and the alarm off, Thomas was red in the face. He murmured an angry thank you and shuffled back to his friend group, who were all sitting in their circle again.

"Fucking loser ruined my dare," Jefferson groaned after plopping down in his seat.

Abigail giggled, "You know what they say—kill 'em with kindness."

Thomas hissed at her.

"So, since you failed your dare, I gotta give you another one. A better one, potius," Monroe announced with the Latin he knew.

Thomas rose his eyebrows in anticipation.

"I dare you to get him in bed with you."

That got the entire group's attention. John stopped looking around cluelessly and aimed his gaze at the two. Abigail put her book down, staring, nonplussed.

"You dare me to get James Madison in bed with me?" Thomas needed affirmation, although it wasn't the first time he'd participated in a one-night stand. "What are the terms?"

Monroe nodded, "Doesn't matter if you're sober or drunk, you two just need to have sex. And you have to tell us the details afterward."

Abigail pulled a face, "We don't need to know the details."

"How else will we know he actually did it?" Adams countered.

Monroe nodded again, "Exactly."

They all leaned back in their seats except for Thomas, who was sitting up straight and pondering the dare.

"I heard he can speak Latin better than English," Adams finally said, eyebrows raised as he stared at the a middle point on the carpeted floor.

"I heard he's the smartest in all of Princeton. He might even be taking grade twelve courses this year along with night school," Abigail added on.

"I heard he doesn't drink," Monroe seemed amused. "He's a loser."

"Everybody he touches dies," John said.

Abigail rose her eyebrows, "Really?"

"'s just what I heard. And his birthday's on Independence Day."

Thomas finally leaned back in his seat with a big breath as his group snorted at the obviously insane (but potentially true) rumours.

This was going to be interesting.


	2. Time

It was day two of the dare and Thomas still hadn't brainstormed a way to get James in bed with him. The tough part would be getting the guy anywhere other than the library. Skip getting to know each other and finding a way into the other's heart. Jefferson was convinced he could look at the loser a certain way and get him to do his bidding.

The sun was shining from where Thomas sat, perched atop a wooden barstool behind the counter of his mother's flower shop, _Macbeth_ tangled in his fingers. He was behind on his reading and decided to catch up while it was his turn to take care of the shop. His mother was off on some business sale, meeting with the Washington's for their upcoming wedding. If things went as planned, they would use her flowers for their decorations, bouquets, and so on and so forth.

Jefferson hadn't cared to congratulate George on his engagement when the news had spread during sophomore year. Him and his friends weren't fond of the man despite their invitations to the event.

Everyone on the street was invited, from Abigail's uncle's family (who owned the library where Washington worked as the head librarian) to John Adams' family and their natural fragrance shop (which his mother provided natural ingredients for) to even James Madison's family, who probably only got invites because their son had been volunteering for Washington ever since his freshman year. Thomas would be attending, but that didn't mean he would be enjoying his time whilst doing so.

With all the anything-but-new thinking he was doing, he hadn't noticed the fresh figure standing outside the entrance of the shop, contemplating whether to step inside or not.

Thomas rose an eyebrow, then looked back down at the play in his hands; he hadn't even gotten through two pages during the past hour. He put it down on the counter and was surprised to see none other than James Madison make his way into the store, his feet dragging against the floor as if his shoes weighed a hundred pounds alone. He watched the other shuffle around awkwardly, looking at all the flowers and not paying the worker any mind.

"Good morning," The greeting was sudden and robotic, but coming from Jefferson and his one-of-a-kind voice, it held pizazz. "May I help you?"

Madison's shoulders visibly tensed at the recognition, something Thomas had never seen before.

Moments passed before he saw the shorter guy turn around and give a small smile, "I'm just looking to buy flowers for my mum."

Something about James wanting to purchase flowers for his mother hit home. Thomas felt his chest swirl with an unknown emotion.

He remembered how flowers were the only thing keeping his own mother going (other than him, of course). Living without his father was hard, but seeing his mother's face glow with happiness whenever a new bud bloomed or Thomas remembered to water the plants for her meant everything to him. Flowers were her absolute favourite things in the world.

"Do you know what her favourite flower is?"

There was an unusually soft smile on Jefferson's face which made James relax, even if it was just a little bit.

"Um," James shifted his weight from one foot to another, "She likes carnations, preferably mini—preferably pink."

With a small hum, Thomas hopped off his stool and rounded the counter. He waved James over to follow him and stepped out into the sunlight, where certain types of flowers were lined in beds on tables. "Carnations need a lot of sunlight, so we tend to put them on display out here. Pink ones are pretty common—we have a lot. Did you want a bouquet or some in a pot?"

Someone like Thomas Jefferson knowing all about flowers made James feel _strange_. "If I could get some in a pot, that would be amazing."

Thomas nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets and retreating back into the store to retrieve some gloves and a nice pot. When he returned, James watched him ever-so gently place the carnations into the pot and pour spare soil around them until it was full to the brim. His gloved hands were so graceful, careful not to harm the plants in any way.

They both stepped back inside and Thomas stepped behind the counter again. James only opened his mouth to specify his means of payment.

"Let me see," Thomas told him when his debit card wouldn't tap properly.

James handed it over without a second thought and watched the worker shine the card against his jeans, then tap it successfully.

Thomas had taken his gloves off, but his hands weren't as fragile around the card as they had been whilst patting the soil down around the carnations. James frowned.

"Thank you," Murmured James, who was ready to flee home.

That's when it hit Thomas.

It dawned on him that the James he had seen in the library on Friday had been different from the one in front of the counter at that moment. Volunteer library assistant James had been strict and made Thomas a complete mess under his gaze; standing-in-foreign-territory James was quiet and a complete mess beneath _Thomas'_ gaze.

The loser held no authority outside of the library.

James wanted to ask why Thomas was staring so intently at him, but his mouth wasn't working. And it didn't have to because the smirk growing on Thomas' face was bigger than Texas.

"Before you go—" James's feet had been glued in place anyway, "—can I get your number?"

In Thomas's mind, it wasn't a risk at all. People went crazy whenever he asked for their numbers, wherever they may be. Rejection wasn't even a possibility to him and on the off chance it ever was, it deemed itself highly unlikely from ever actually occurring.

That's why James' response surprised him. Thomas had never seen anyone get so red and so angry so fast.

"Goodbye, Thomas," Were Madison's last words before he exited the store, leaving a dumbfounded Jefferson behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think it's a secret that james' temper turns thomas on


	3. Damn Fool

"So, how's it going?"

Thomas was in the middle of scribbling down quick answers to the history questions they had just been assigned when his friend leaned over to pester him. He twisted his lips and let out a small, questioning hum, as if he had no idea what Monroe was asking about.

James tried again, "How are things going with Madison?"

When Jefferson didn't respond, Monroe clasped the other's textbook shut and held it closed with his palm.

"I swear, you're the most annoying person I've ever met," Thomas grumbled.

"I know," James smiled cockily, "Now tell me how it's going."

Frankly, Thomas didn't want to recall what had happened over the weekend at his flower shop. He didn't want to talk about how he was rejected and he definitely didn't want to talk about how he had spent the rest of Saturday and then Sunday sulking because his ego had been popped by none other than James Madison. If a loser like Madison could reject him so easily, what did that mean for the rest of his reputation? Had he lost his charm?

"Abigail, would you sleep with me?" Jefferson asked the girl who was sitting on his other side. They had two classes together: History and English. Usually, they would walk to third period together after lunch.

She didn't even give him a second glance.

James gasped, "He said no to fucking you?"

Thomas hissed, "I didn't ask him to fuck right on the spot—I asked him for his number so we could fuck later."

"And he said no?"

A beat.

Monroe laughed, trying to contain himself so as not to gain any attention from the teacher. As far as he knew, Thomas could get more people in bed with him than he could, so this was a major setback. "Ready to call the dare off and abide to my every will?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, "I'll get him. It just might take longer than expected."

"Whatever, loser."

❁

"Then he had the decency to ask me to help him with his math," Aaron was venting to Madison about Alexander Hamilton again. The guy was great with a pen, but when it came to numbers—well, they didn't work like words did.

"Did you?" Madison asked with a raise of his eyebrows, chewing a bite of his sandwich.

Burr scoffed, "Of course not."

That was why James Madison and Aaron Burr were friends.

When Aaron stopped talking enough to take a bite of his pizza, Madison spoke up: "D'you know anything about Thomas Jefferson?"

Burr was confused as to why Madison asked such a random question.

"I know his mother owns a flower shop that he works at sometimes. I also know he's fluent in French," Aaron gave a shrug. "Probably in a lot of other languages too. Apparently he's filthy rich and when his mom's not around, he has a maid to do his bidding. We're talking filthy rich. His house is huge—"

"How do you know all this?" James was taken aback. How come he had never heard any of this about Thomas?

"Maybe it's because I leave my house every so often," Aaron rose a brow, "Why do you _want_ to know about Thomas Jefferson?"

Madison gave a shrug and took another bite of his sandwich, "I went to buy flowers for my mom and he asked me for my number."

Burr nearly choked, reaching for his water and gulping it down before speaking again, "Thomas Jefferson asked _you_ for your number? Pics or it didn't happen."

"I didn't take a picture of him asking me for my number," James blinked.

"Show me his contact," Aaron held out a hand.

"I can't."

"Why? Did you forget your passcode again? Here, let me try—"

"He didn't text me. I mean, I didn't give him my number."

Aaron's jaw hit the table. "Are you saying Thomas Jefferson asked for your number and you didn't give it to him? Are you insane?"

Madison didn't follow.

"I would fuck him," Burr explained. "Anyone would. The only reason people go to his parties is because he gets like three people in bed with him a night. He's _that_ guy, but instead of getting backlash for it, he's a legend. You need to go out more."

James swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, "I'm not interested."

"Not interested in guys? Bullshit, you're the gayest guy I've ever met—"

"I'm not interested in sex," James corrected himself.

Burr laughed, but as his laughter went on and he realized it wasn't a joke, he frowned.

James Madison wasn't interested in having sex with Thomas Jefferson.

"My God," Burr was left completely dumbfounded.


	4. Nervous

Friday.

It had been nearly a week since James had seen Thomas. The last time had been at the flower shop and although their encounter hadn't been the best, he did have him to thank for the lovely flowers. His mother had loved them and they were now perched near her window in her at-home office that she rarely ever used. It was one of those things she had to have and nobody could blame her considering the economy.

After school, Madison had come straight to the library. He wasn't set to volunteer until later in the day, but he took advantage of (and had some pride in) the fact he was welcomed there anytime.

The hours prior to his shift had been spent at the tables near the entrance, where he sat and worked on his homework. Although he was great with languages, something about the English curriculum wavered him. He often found himself taking longer to read than the other students, as well as getting figures of speech mixed up with rhetorical devices and so on and so forth.

"We could really use more help around here," George Washington could be heard talking to someone from outside the library. They were getting closer, which was why Madison hadn't noticed before.

A soft chuckle escaped someone who sounded familiar, "I suppose so."

"Promise me you won't be up to any trouble? After all, you will gain quite a bit of hour after this. James has already exceeded how many he needs to graduate."

"I know we've had our differences in the past, but I am well-prepared to take on this responsibility, sir," The smirk could be heard from miles away.

Thomas Jefferson.

James had never moved so fast in his entire life.

The few seconds between hearing them and their actual entrance was enough for him to completely disappear to the back of the library, bag placed in its usual spot next to the computers.

He breathed quietly, trying to be as silent as possible so that he could hear the conversation over his heart pounding through his ears. Soon, he realized he was breathing too heavily to be able to hear any full sentences, so all he heard was: ". . . Volunteer. . . James. . . Tour. . ."

Madison focused on oxygen instead of piecing the words together. He could see the ground. The library smelled familiar, like a home away from home. Each book section had its own particular scent and he didn't even have to be around them to be able to imagine them. The children's books smelled like his old bed, the smaller one he had had when he was younger. If he tried hard enough, he could also visualize his younger brother and even younger sister. Then there was the fiction section, which wreaked of middle school and nostalgia. He remembered where all the vampire books were because he had been obsessed with the mythological creatures for at least a year of his life (something about them and their obvious health conditions made him relate on a strange level). Before he could think of what the non-fiction section smelled like, he was shortly startled out of his thoughts by a voice that seemed to be coming from behind him.

"Yo," It called to him, but he didn't recognize it until it was repeated.

It was Thomas. And James had his eyes closed which was why everything around him was so dark. Even so, he did not wish to open them and interact with the stranger, so he stayed put. As he became more familiar with his surroundings and trying to tune Thomas out, James realized he was on the floor. Not only that, but his palms were aching from how much pressure he was putting on them.

The next line of Jefferson's was something Madison only heard because he had a particular distaste in the matter: "Should I get Washington?"

That was all James needed to persuade himself to recover and push away the anxiousness in his chest. He supposed he could speak to Thomas. And the faster he did, the quicker it would be over.

James opened his eyes, not reacting to everything around him no matter how much he wanted to. He slowly stood up onto his feet and dusted off his pants before looking to Thomas.

Oh.

He had this look on his face like James was in one of those absurd dreams where he showed up to volunteer in just his boxers. But that made no sense since he had just felt his pants on him. Had he really looked _that_ strange curled up on the floor against the wall? He supposed so.

Neither of them dwelled on it for long.

"Guess who just got a volunteer job here? That makes us co-workers," Thomas had watched enough of  _The Office_ to know that relationships were very likely to start in work environments. "Washington told me to pass on an order to you so you can give me a tour of the place. He said—"

"I know."

Thomas paused and rose an eyebrow as if to ask how the hell James would know if he hadn't been there.

"Come on, I'll show you around," James held his breath as he stepped around Thomas, afraid the other would stop him. He inhaled again when he successfully led the way to the non-fiction section of books.

Jefferson yawned.

"I'm not boring you, am I?" Madison asked, irritated.

Thomas gave him a disapproving look.

"This is the fiction section," James sighed.

Again, Thomas decided to communicate with expressions rather than words. It looked like he was trying to hide his ignorance whilst nodding slowly.

"As in, books that aren't real?" It came out as more of a question and Madison didn't bother to correct himself. He was more confused than anything anyway.

Jefferson rolled his eyes, "I know  _that_."

That only made James more frustrated, "You've never picked up a book in your life."

"Don't have to, I have a maid to do that for me."

"You don't read," James tapped his own foot against the hard-carpeted floor.

"I do read, just not this crap," Thomas hissed. "I don't believe in creatures or fairy tales. The only stuff I read is historical stuff. Like, things that have happened and are complete, one-hundred percent true. Why waste your time on imagination when you can actually learn something?"

Madison hadn't been expecting such a strong opinion.

"Of course, you wouldn't know anything about learning," Thomas pulled out a small, folded-up piece of paper from his back pocket.

"What's that supposed to—" Before Madison could speak, the other had unfolded what was one of the pages of his homework and shoved it in his face. It was his English work—he must have dropped it whilst rushing to get to the back. He snatched it from the taller boy, "Give me that."

James could feel his cheeks heating up as Thomas laughed.

His underlying quick wit kicked in during that moment, overriding his moral compass: "You're just upset about being rejected."

That wiped the grin off Jefferson.

"I know what guys like you want," Madison continued, red in the face. To his surprise, Thomas jumped back.

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You're only here because you wanna fuck me," James felt like he was about to puke, but he stood his ground.

"That's not true," Hesitation was evident in Thomas' words. He remembered how being blunt hadn't worked, so he reminded himself to slow down. "Honest, it's not. I've heard great things about you and you're always hanging around the library whenever I'm here with my friends. It's intriguing how much you love this place and I want to learn more about you."

That sentence hadn't even been close to all Thomas wanted to say and it scared him.

"Prove it," James spat.

_What?_

"I'll tutor you," Thomas blurted out before his mind could analyze his words.

It was Madison's turn to be shocked, " _Pardon?_ "

Jefferson rolled his eyes, "I'll tutor you. And before you decline, I'll have you know I'm doing it for free _and_ I'm acing English right now. Plus, we both know how important this mark is for our college applications. The  _smart_ decision would be to accept."

All James could think was that he  _was_ smart. Despite everything everyone had ever said to him, he was smart. Which meant he had to make the smart decision.

The universe didn't seem to have a problem with him hanging around that asshole.

They shook hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed the banter! kudos and comments are always appreciated. <3


	5. What You're For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought i'd give you guys a bit of a longer one since i take a while to update!

Monday came all to quickly.

Thomas arrived at the library earlier than he needed so that he could tutor James.

When James had mentioned one his friends (which was an overstatement) would be tutoring him, his mother had beamed with joy. They both knew poor James had been having trouble with keeping pace with the English curriculum and spending extra hours with someone who shone in the subject would do him more good than bad.

Of course, his mother didn't know about Thomas' character. She didn't know what the word on the streets were about the kid. All she probably knew about was the death of his father not too long ago, but that was because everyone in town had given the wealthy family their condolences. ("What a shame," Eleanor had said, "Peter was a good man.")

Quite frankly, James had been too sick to attend the public funeral.

"You're not late," James sounded surprised when he walked up to Thomas at the entrance.

The taller boy tilted his head, causing his curls to bounce, " _You're_ not late."

"I'm never late," James tilted his head higher.

"Me neither," Thomas shot back.

With a dreadful sigh, Madison walked passed Jefferson to lead the way into the library.

It was a calming place. There was a familiar smell of books and pool water, complete with welcoming staff members. James liked it.

There was also a gym on the second floor with a running track. Along with an indoor pool, vending machines, and tables to sit at. The library part of the community centre was a fair size, carrying computers for work and many small places for children. (How come Thomas was surprised anyone would like spending time there?)

They sat down at a table and while James was fishing through his backpack for his English stuff, Thomas slumped back in his seat. He pretended to check his phone intently when really, he was watching the other out of the corner of his eye.

Madison's hands were shaking and he looked like he was holding his breath. He never looked that anxious when he was yelling at him. Maybe being angry was the poor guy's only coping strategy.

"What?" James sounded annoyed. (What else was new?)

Thomas blinked, "I didn't say anything."

"You're pretending to be on your phone and obnoxiously pouting at me. What is it?"

"You're nervous," Thomas put down his phone.

James eyed it like it was a bomb.

"Seriously, I'm not that big of a deal. Just chill, we're all friends here."

The word made James take in a sharp breath. Friends?

"I didn't know co-workers for barely a day automatically meant friendship," James grumbled.

Thomas rolled his eyes, "Just show me what you're working on before I lose any more braincells."

While they worked, they did bicker some, but not like Thomas remembered doing so with Hamilton. No, that pipsqueak was way more brutal, spitting and threatening with every breath he could muster. Madison was different. He bantered, but did so in a calm manner, which never seized to amaze Thomas. How could someone be fuming but so down-low at the same time?

It had almost been an hour when James noticed more and more little kids walking into the library. Last time he had checked, the community centre didn't hold birthday parties.

"Thomas," James interrupted the other. He had been explaining the difference between parallelism and balance.

Jefferson seemed irritated, "Do you wanna know the difference or not?"

"How many little kids have walked in during the passed hour?"

"About fifty, why?"

Madison gave Thomas a look at his fib, then rolled his eyes. "Is there something going on today?"

"Oh yeah," Thomas smirked like he was some sort of superhero. "Washington told me to tell you not to forget the reading session."

Shit.

"It's almost time for me to read to the kids. I do so every Monday," James explained, letting out a relieved breath. "Thank god I didn't forget."

"You're welcome," Thomas grinned.

"You were no help."

❁

"How long do you have to do it for?" Thomas was already bored as he watched James picking out children's books to read. It had been a record of thirty seconds.

James shrugged, "About an hour. It's good for developing their learning skills. My mother used to do so for me when I was little and I credit her with the reason I know how to read today."

"Really?"

"No," James gave a small snort. Thomas smiled at that.

❁

The room was in the back corner of the library: an enclosed space complete with a colourful carpet, multiple different seats, and even windows to show the bright view outside. Kids were sat with their legs crossed on the carpet, wooden seats lining the exterior.

"Jemmy!" They all screeched peacefully when he entered. James heard Thomas snort, but thought nothing of it.

"Hello everyone," James gave a grin. "This is my friend Thomas. He'll be joining us from now on."

Jefferson blinked when the kids stared at him and let out halfhearted greetings. He gave a sheepish wave and sat down in a beanbag beside the rocking chair James would occupy.

James was on a high. It was great seeing how Thomas interacted when he was put in unfamiliar environments. For once, it wasn't him being uncomfortable.

The kids chose to be read  _Pinkalicious_ first.

Thomas watched James read. He seemed to have no shame like he had when he had been being tutored. It was probably because he had been doing this for a while. Being tutored was new to him. Huh.

A kid with a curly ponytail and freckles raised his hand.

James saw it right away. He stopped reading to respond, "Yes, Philip?"

"Can I go to the washroom?"

With a look to Thomas, James nodded, "I'll take you. Thomas here will continue reading."

Thomas froze.

He looked to James, who had the most malicious smirk on his face he had ever seen. How could the children not see how utterly evil their reader was?

"No, 'm not," Jefferson whispered to Madison, who was holding out the book to him. Usually, he would have been taller, but James was standing, towering over him with a shaky kid holding one of his hands.

"Yes, you are," James wiggled the book slightly. "Come on."

"No," Thomas held his hands up.

"Yes," James argued.

"No."

"Yes," It was said through gritted teeth as James pushed the book against Thomas' chest. He caught it with both his hands and glared.

James gave a victorious smile and walked out with Philip.

Annoyed, Thomas stood to transfer to the rocking chair. When he was situated with the page they had been on held open for everyone to see, he realized that all the kids were staring at him with big eyes. It was as if he held the key to a candy stash or something and they would abide to his every will because of it.

He smirked.

❁

When James approached with Philip, who was much more relieved, he wasn't at all surprised to see Thomas entertaining the kids with all he had.

Every so often the kids would raise their hands to ask questions and Thomas would respond sarcastically, making them all laugh. ("What do you mean 'why does _Pinkalicious_ love the colour pink so much?' Have you _seen_ the colour pink? It puts all the other colours to shame, is what it does. I'll give y'that.")

James had known it.

Thomas had a thing for power and attention. The way he overdramatized everything, sometimes even subconciously. How he had set off the exit alarms. Sass was probably his first language.

Even attention from little kids was enough for him to revel in.

"I'm back," James announced as he placed Philip back on the carpet.

Thomas wondered how much James had heard. Part of him was flustered, while the other part hoped he sounded impressive. Having children wrapped around your finger was impressive, right? Those little things never listened to anyone, so it could be seen as an accomplishment.

Or he was being stupidly desperate.

As Thomas went to hand over the book back to James, some of the kids whined. They even went so far as to called him "Tommy" and vocally request him to read instead of James.

Wow.

James held his hands up innocently and was slow as he lowered himself onto Thomas' former beanbag seat, nonplussed.

Thomas gave him an apologetic smile. The kids cheered. He cleared his throat and went back to reading.

Maybe Jefferson wasn't so bad after all.


	6. UPDATE

i didn't die

 

hello hello everyone, just here to give you guys a quick update! you'll be happy to know i fully intend to finish this fic, just this past year has been very hectic for me. i'm going into grade 12 in a week and i'm supposed to know what i wanna do with my life (haha i don't) and lots of other things have been standing in the way of me updating regularly. i have a few chapters drafted, so those will be posted soon. the reason i don't have a posting schedule like every other fic writer on here is because i don't do well with deadlines so i would really appreciate it if you guys could be patient with me (as you have been, ily all) as i release the rest of this fic. it's going to be a very good one filled with angst and feels but lotsa fluff!!!!!! i promise i will do jeffmads justice at my own pace.

 

in the meantime, if you guys wanna request some one shots, i've gotten a new tumblr: [irlbenji](https://irlbenji.tumblr.com/)

 

my [ask box](https://irlbenji.tumblr.com/prompts) is open and i have also made a page with the requests i have already filled [here](https://irlbenji.tumblr.com/lists)

 

these requests are easier for me to write so that is why they are going to become a sort of side project! come on over and request some jeffmads if you really want it, or whatever else your soul yearns for!

 

again, more chapters will be up soon. bear with me lovelies ♥︎


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